


Better Than Your Hockey

by blame1988



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gay Porn Hard, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blame1988/pseuds/blame1988
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What is your fucking problem?” Jonny yells back as he turns around to face the guy, who’s about a half foot shorter than him.</p>
<p>“You’re my fucking problem Toes.” The guy stares directly at him, a challenge set clearly on his face, silently asking what the fuck Jonny’s gonna do about it. “You and your shitty hockey.”</p>
<p>“Shut the fuck up, you annoying mother fucker! Go back to fucking Buffalo.” Jonny’s argument gets a little weak as he takes the guy in, his piercing blue eyes and the way that he’s licking his lips as he stares into Jonny’s eyes.</p>
<p>“What are you gonna do to make me?” he asks with a glint in his eyes and a smirk playing on his face, stepping into Jonny’s space and crowding him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than Your Hockey

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gay porn hard offer to the hockey gods for game 7. It worked for game 6 so hopefully it does this time too. Featuring angry hockey fan Kaner. This has been in my drafts for a long time so it was good to finally finish it.

Jonny’s already pissed because his team is playing like shit and they’re losing in the first period. Jonny himself has had two giveaways and one of them resulted in a goal. They’ve gotten two back but they still need two more to tie it, and three to win. And they’re playing Buffalo of all fucking teams.

That’s when he hears it the first time. Some douchey frat bro with insane blond curls is sitting right behind the Blackhawks bench wearing a Sabres jersey. And he’s talking shit about Jonny.

“Toes you’re the worst player I’ve seen in my life!” he yells and bangs against the glass as Jonny sits down on the bench. Of course he’s going with the Toes pronunciation. Could he be any less original? Normally shit like that doesn’t get to Jonny; he can block it out like nobody’s business. But tonight, with all the shit that’s already going wrong, it’s making his blood boil. He’s seriously contemplating turning around and telling him to shut the fuck up when Q taps him and tells him to go in.

He forces a turnover and sends the puck up ice where it lands on Hossa’s stick, who sends it over for a beautiful tap in by Saader. As he’s cellying with his linemates he can’t help but think about the idiot behind the bench and how he might shut his mouth now.

Only he doesn’t. It gets worse if anything. His friends get in on it and at least one of them is saying something any time Jonny is on the bench. He can’t fucking stand it.

The Hawks finally tie it up midway through the third, but the hecklers don’t get discouraged at all. They keep it up, with blondie being the loudest the entire time. Jonny imagines killing him in various ways and they get more and more violent as the game goes on. Especially when it gets to overtime. They had two amazing chances at the end of the third but they just couldn’t get it into the fucking net.

“Hope you’re ready to lose Toes!” Jonny hears before he heads to the ice for the opening faceoff and he imagines his opponent across the dot as that asshole to get him into the mindset to completely dominate and prove him wrong.

He does just that and Seabs gets the game winner about a minute in and Jonny gets the primary assist. He feels elated as he celebrates with his teammates. That elation dies down a little as he heads back towards the bench and that jackass is still there right by the glass, still talking shit even though his team just lost and he’s surrounded by a sea of red in his Sabres jersey, looking like an idiot.

Jonny can’t be distracted for too long though because he has to have his interview for number one star of the game. He gets through it, and even though he’s happy they won, he’s still exhausted and still a little upset about their play, especially his, at the beginning of the game. And he’s still annoyed by the little shit who can’t keep his mouth shut.

After showers and interviews that seemed to drag on forever, Jonny finally leaves the United Center and is ready to go home and relax and move on to the next game.

Of course, when he’s on his way to his car, he runs into none other than the little asshole that chirped him the entire fucking game.

“Just because your team won one game doesn’t mean you’re good. You still suck Toes!” He starts following Jonny and spouting off, saying the dumbest shit ever. But it’s hitting Jonny in the worst way possible, especially after hearing all fucking night, and he snaps. He knows he should keep himself in check, he knows how bad this could be if any of this got out to the public. He’s the captain of the Chicago Blackhawks, one annoying fan should not be getting to him like this. But he is. He so fucking is.

“What is your fucking problem?” Jonny yells back as he turns around to face the guy, who’s about a half foot shorter than him.

“You’re my fucking problem Toes.” The guy stares directly at him, a challenge set clearly on his face, silently asking what the fuck Jonny’s gonna do about it. “You and your shitty hockey.”

“Shut the fuck up, you annoying mother fucker! Go back to fucking Buffalo.” Jonny’s argument gets a little weak as he takes the guy in, his piercing blue eyes and the way that he’s licking his lips as he stares into Jonny’s eyes.

“What are you gonna do to make me?” he asks with a glint in his eyes and a smirk playing on his face, stepping into Jonny’s space and crowding him.

Jonny pushes him back against the wall and the guy fucking moans. “You gonna punish me Toes?” he breathes out. “Teach me my lesson?”

Fuck. This is not how Jonny thought this was going to go at all. Now he’s thinking about doing something infinitely worse than fighting this guy.

“Come on. Do it,” he taunts and Jonny can’t stop himself. He leans down and kisses the guy harshly, burying his hand in his hair and pulling, hard, as he bites down on his bottom lip. “Fuuuck,” the guy moans as Jonny pulls away for breath.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Jonny hisses.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Fucking kiss me again.” Jonny does as he’s told, and this guy is a great fucking kisser. It almost makes up for how annoying he’d been during the entire game.

But Jonny can’t get completely lost in the kiss, because all of a sudden he realizes what he’s actually doing. He’s making out with this dude, a complete stranger, in fucking public, and he doesn’t even know his name. He pulls back suddenly and wipes his mouth. “Fuck,” he says ever so eloquently before bolting, heading to his car.

“Come back Toes!” The guy yells, but Jonny doesn’t even look back.

\---

Jonny’s forgotten all about his random public makeout with the annoying Sabres fan--ok, not so much forgotten as consciously tried to push it completely out of his mind--when he’s forced to remember it again.

Because they’re playing at home again, about two weeks later, and there he is, in the same fucking seat behind the bench. Only this time he’s not wearing a Sabres jersey. He’s sitting there in a Toews jersey, the C on his chest standing out starkly. He’s looking at Jonny with a shiteating grin on his face, like he was just waiting for him to notice him. Jonny can’t stop looking back at him every time he goes to the bench.

He’s still as loud as he was the last time, Jonny can hear him clearly, only this time he’s cheering on the Hawks and Jonny specifically, still calling him Toes. Some of the other guys notice it this time; they’re more laid back and happy because they’re holding onto a pretty great lead and they’ve been playing amazingly all night. And they take any chance they can get to chirp their captain. 

“Looks like you’ve got a big fan back there Captain Toes,” Sharpy says early in the third.

“Shut up Sharpy.” Jonny doesn’t need any reminders that the guy is there. He can’t fucking get him out of his head.

“No, he’s definitely your biggest fan. I think he really likes you man, he’s staring straight at you. And he’s like, licking his lips.” Sharpy is staring straight at him so Jonny’s pretty sure he’s not lying. “I bet he would suck your dick.”

“Sharpy!” Jonny kind of can’t believe he said that, but then again it’s Sharpy so he kind of can believe it.

“I’m just saying man. When’s the last time you got laid? You haven’t had a boyfriend in a while bud.”

“That’s none of your fucking business!” Jonny yells to him as he hops onto the ice for his next shift. As he goes he can’t help but look at the guy in the crowd and it’s a mistake because he licks his lips with clear intentions in his eyes, and Jonny trips over his own skates and almost falls down.

After the game, which they win 5-2, and his shower and post game interviews, Jonny heads out to his car. He’s not surprised at all when he sees the Toews jersey and his “biggest fan,” according to Sharpy, standing in almost the exact same spot as last time waiting for him.

“Nice jersey,” Jonny quips with a smirk.

“Thought you’d like it.” He smirks right back. “Are you gonna run away this time Toes?”

“Are you gonna tell me your name this time?”

“I would have told you last time but your tongue was in my mouth. And then you ran away. It’s Patrick.”

“Patrick,” Jonny says before he crowds him back into the wall and kisses him. It’s not quite as hard and biting as the last time, but it’s still just as good. This guy’s--Patrick’s--mouth is something else. “Do you want to come back to my place, Patrick?” He asks, accentuating it with another quick kiss.

“Fuck yes Toes. And you can call me Pat.”

“You can call me Jonny. Because I’m gonna beat your fucking ass if you call me Toes again.”

“Is that a promise, Jonny?”

\---

The drive back to his condo feels like it takes forever, and Pat is not helping with his roaming hands, feeling his way up Jonny’s thigh. 

They finally make it to Jonny’s place and as soon as they get through the door they’re all over each other. Jonny pushes Pat up against his door and attaches his mouth to his neck. The sounds Pat’s making are going straight to Jonny’s dick, and he can tell Patrick is affected too if the way he can feel Pat’s dick pressed up against his thigh is any indication.

“God you’re so hot,” Pat’s moaning as his hands roam Jonny’s body. “And your ass.” Pat grabs a handful and squeezes, and Jonny can’t help the way his hips jerk, pressing his dick into Patrick’s. “I would love to get all up in that ass, Jonny.” Jonny groans into Pat’s neck, imagining how good that would be. “But I’m really gonna need you to fuck me.”

“Yes, fuck,” Jonny wholeheartedly agrees and kisses Pat to prove his point, grinding his hips into Pat’s. After a couple more minutes, Pat pulls away.

“Come on Jonny. Fuck me. We’ll see if you’re better at that than you are at hockey.”

“Fuck off,” Jonny says before he pulls Pat back to his bedroom. They start stripping out of their clothes as fast as possible, and Jonny grabs Pat’s wrist before he can take the jersey off. “You should uh, you should leave that on.”

“You fucking conceited ass. You’re gonna get off by staring at your own name aren’t you. Fucking asshole.” Pat complains but he does leave the jersey on.

“Shut the fuck up and get on the bed. On your hands and knees,” Jonny orders as he grabs the lube and a condom from his nightstand. He gets a look at Patrick spread out on his bed, with Jonny’s fucking name scrawled across his back, and he has to collect himself and calm down or this is not going to last long at all.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what Toes?” Pat taunts, wiggling his ass, when Jonny doesn’t move fast enough.

“I fucking told you not to call me that,” Jonny growls and gets with the program. He positions himself behind Pat on the bed, getting his fingers good and slick and finally getting them where Pat wants them. He pushes one immediately against Pat’s rim, in and in, smirking at the groan it pulls from him. Jonny works more fingers in gradually, brushing them against Pat’s prostate any chance he gets and the noises that Pat is making are going straight to Jonny’s dick. With his free hand he traces his name on Pat’s back, getting off on it way too much.

And Pat notices. “Fuck, Jonny. You like that? Your name on my back? Wanna mark me up? Make me yours?”

Jonny groans and gets his mouth on Pat’s neck, sucking and biting, trying to leave his mark so Pat can remember this, so Jonny can see.

“Jonny, Jonny,” Pat breathes out as Jonny’s working on his neck, his fingers still buried deep inside of him. “I need you to fuck me now Jonny. Come on.”

Jonny pulls his fingers out and gets the condom on as quickly as possible. Not wanting to waste any more time. He positions himself at Pat’s entrance and braces his hand against the 19 on Pat’s back as he guides himself inside.

Pat groans and pushes back to quicken Jonny’s actions, getting him snug up against Pat’s ass just like that. Jonny sets a fast pace, snapping his hips, pushing in then pulling out just to do it all over again.

“Jonny, so good, fuck yeah. Fuck me, just like that baby, fucking harder, punish me.” Pat is spouting off so much filth, non stop. Jonny can’t even speak, can just do what Patrick’s asking, fucking in as hard as he can, with little to no rhythm at all, doing his best to hit Pat’s prostate with every thrust of his hips, wanting to absolutely wreck him.

Jonny can feel it building, knows he’s getting close, but he wants to get Patrick there first. He reaches around to get a hand on Pat’s dick and find that his own hand is already there. Jonny wraps his hand around Patrick’s, and both of them work on getting him off. Jonny’s thumb finds the slit and Pat loses it, coming all over their hands with even more filth falling out of his mouth.

Jonny’s so close now, doesn’t want to stop, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to when Pat says, voice hoarse, “keep going Jonny, fucking use me.”

Jonny gets his hands on Pat’s hips, helping him stay up as he slams in, using Pat to get himself off. “Fuck, Pat,” Jonny groans as his orgasm builds all the way up and crashes over him. His hips stutter as comes inside of Pat, and it takes all he has not to just collapse on top of him.

After a few moments, Jonny gets himself together enough to pull out and remove the condom, but then all he can do is roll over and collapse onto the bed. “Holy fucking shit,” he says, as articulate as ever.

“Good thing you fuck better than you play hockey,” Pat says after a few moments of silence, because apparently he can’t not ruin a good thing.

“Good thing you’re not annoying in bed. Oh wait, yes you fucking are.” Jonny deadpans and Pat laughs, like a throwing his head back, full body laugh, and Jonny knows that he’s screwed because he thinks it makes him look beautiful. And where the fuck did that come from?

“It pulled you in though, Toes,” Pat counters with a shit eating grin and it makes Jonny want to kiss him.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Jonny says and goes to push Pat away, but Pat grabs his hand and rolls over half on top of Jonny, kissing him soft and sweet, the complete opposite of any of the other kisses they’ve shared.

“An asshole who’s gonna give you his number, Jonny. Aren’t you glad?” He asks with another gorgeous grin when he pulls away. And yeah, Jonny is.


End file.
